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Lamentations

"Has man always inhabited a world like the present, where nothing is linked together, where virtue is without genius, and genius without honor; where the love of order is confounded with a taste for oppression, and the holy rites of freedom with a contempt of law; where the light thrown by conscience on human actions is dim, and where nothing seems to be any longer forbidden or allowed, honorable or shameful, false or true?"

-Alexis de ToquevilleListen, my children. Draw closer, come near.For a tale of tragedy you shall now hear:A fair maiden's death in our own little town;Blindly struck down in her wedding night gown.

I remember that night, t'was some time ago(But its exact date even I do not know),When the the townspeople gathered, the young and the old,To observe ancient rituals with eyes, so bold.

At the altar, alone, stood the new groom to be.He was handsome and bright, a grand thing to see.Gaily he stood there, awaiting the time,When his lover would enter, a character sublime.

And thus sang the crowd:

"Oh! Fa la la la-la, come hither! Don't dally!There's love to be had down here in the valley!"

Then the clock stuck nine, ten, eleven, and twelve.The people grew restless, began to inquire and delve:Could it be? That she will leave him at the altar?Could it be? That her resolve should now faulter?

Clambering o'er each other to get to the door,Went the old and the young, the rich and the poor.Down the street they then raced, straight to the father's house,But all in the dwelling was quiet, not a soul there did grouse.

The groom sprang from their midst, for all to see,And cried "My love, my love! Have you abandoned me?"Then the lights came on, and the door was opened,To reveal the father, with his soul clearly broken.

The crowd surged forward, and pressed into the 'bode,And the tide of this human surge the groom rodeRight into the room where his dear lover lay,Just to hear her say: "He is here! My killer, verily I say!"

Recoiling in shock all the people fled,Leaving the young man alone with the dead.And none were there as he sat, and weepedFor the maiden who must now eternally sleep.

And thus the crowd sang:

"Oh! La da da da-da, flee hither! Don't dally!There's death to be seen down here in the valley!"

And the question that arose everyone's lipsWas 'Who could be the one that the evidence fit?'The policemen were baffled, the dectectives were too,It's quite safe to say, there was scarcely a clue.

But soon came the day, without any solace,To put our lady away who bore the pale face.Their she lay all exposed, enshrouded in silk,With innocence to guard against the world's ilk..

And the people looked on, but soon looked away,For their hearts strangely... Trembled that day.They couldn't quite place it, couldn't quite nameJust what had happened to that fair, little dame.

Time did not quicken, it somehow slowed down,As Heaven looked on to our small, gathered town.But suddendly a figure then burst from the crowd:The groom! Who with his last, dying gasp, cried a-loud:

"Libertas is dead! And we, her killers!"

And thus the belfry sang:

"Oh! Fol dol dol-doly, cling to what is holy!"Oh! Tra la la-lally, lest you feel your folly!"__________I mean for this to be read twice, the second time with the knowledge of the maiden's ide tity.

[b]When Eden Sank to Grief[/b]\r\n\r\n[i]"Has man always inhabited a world like the present, where nothing is linked together, where virtue is without genius, and genius without honor; where the love of order is confounded with a taste for oppression, and the holy rites of freedom with a contempt of law; where the light thrown by conscience on human actions is dim, and where nothing seems to be any longer forbidden or allowed, honorable or shameful, false or true?"\r\n\r\n-Alexis de Toqueville[/i]\r\nListen, my children. Draw closer, come near.\r\nFor a tale of tragedy you shall now hear:\r\nA fair maiden's death in our own little town;\r\nBlindly struck down in her wedding night gown.\r\n\r\nI remember that night, t'was some time ago\r\n(But its exact date even I do not know),\r\nWhen the the townspeople gathered, the young and the old,\r\nTo observe ancient rituals with eyes, so bold.\r\n\r\nAt the altar, alone, stood the new groom to be.\r\nHe was handsome and bright, a grand thing to see.\r\nGaily he stood there, awaiting the time,\r\nWhen his lover would enter, a character sublime.\r\n\r\nAnd thus sang the crowd:\r\n\r\n"Oh! Fa la la la-la, come hither! Don't dally!\r\nThere's love to be had down here in the valley!"\r\n\r\nThen the clock stuck nine, ten, eleven, and twelve.\r\nThe people grew restless, began to inquire and delve:\r\nCould it be? That she will leave him at the altar?\r\nCould it be? That her resolve should now faulter?\r\n\r\nClambering o'er each other to get to the door,\r\nWent the old and the young, the rich and the poor.\r\nDown the street they then raced, straight to the father's house,\r\nBut all in the dwelling was quiet, not a soul there did grouse.\r\n\r\nThe groom sprang from their midst, for all to see,\r\nAnd cried "My love, my love! Have you abandoned me?"\r\nThen the lights came on, and the door was opened,\r\nTo reveal the father, with his soul clearly broken.\r\n\r\nThe crowd surged forward, and pressed into the 'bode,\r\nAnd the tide of this human surge the groom rode\r\nRight into the room where his dear lover lay,\r\nJust to hear her say: "He is here! My killer, verily I say!"\r\n\r\nRecoiling in shock all the people fled,\r\nLeaving the young man alone with the dead.\r\nAnd none were there as he sat, and weeped\r\nFor the maiden who must now eternally sleep.\r\n\r\nAnd thus the crowd sang:\r\n\r\n"Oh! La da da da-da, flee hither! Don't dally!\r\nThere's death to be seen down here in the valley!"\r\n\r\nAnd the question that arose everyone's lips\r\nWas 'Who could be the one that the evidence fit?'\r\nThe policemen were baffled, the dectectives were too,\r\nIt's quite safe to say, there was scarcely a clue.\r\n\r\nBut soon came the day, without any solace,\r\nTo put our lady away who bore the pale face.\r\nTheir she lay all exposed, enshrouded in silk,\r\nWith innocence to guard against the world's ilk..\r\n\r\nAnd the people looked on, but soon looked away,\r\nFor their hearts strangely... Trembled that day.\r\nThey couldn't quite place it, couldn't quite name\r\nJust what had happened to that fair, little dame.\r\n\r\nTime did not quicken, it somehow slowed down,\r\nAs Heaven looked on to our small, gathered town.\r\nBut suddendly a figure then burst from the crowd:\r\nThe groom! Who with his last, dying gasp, cried a-loud:\r\n\r\n"Libertas is dead! And we, her killers!"\r\n\r\nAnd thus the belfry sang:\r\n\r\n"Oh! Fol dol dol-doly, cling to what is holy!"\r\nOh! Tra la la-lally, lest you feel your folly!"\r\n__________\r\nI mean for this to be read twice, the second time with the knowledge of the maiden's ide tity.

Theory holds that there are five stages of grief that an individual goes through in the aftermath of some devastating event. It starts with denial, than proceeds with anger. Bargaining and depression soon follow. The cycle culminates in acceptance.

Acceptance, however, is a very broad term.

I dwell in a state of supreme acceptance. No event, no matter how unexpected or cruel, bothers me. As the saying goes, it slides off me like water off a duck's back. To most people, my state of superior acceptance is known as apathy.

In other words, I simply do not care. In less than a year I will end my childhood and become an adult. The word 'disfunctional' would be a euphemistic way of describing it. I am not close to my father, and was kicked out by my mother. But do I care? No. For the first time in my life, I am struggling to fit in socially at my new school. But am I bothered that I have eaten lunch every day this year by myself? No. And when asked, I lie and say that everything is fine. It's simpler this way; I don't feel like the challenge of facing the truth is even worth it.

Ain't it a funny thing?

[b]Reflections XI[/b]\r\n\r\nTheory holds that there are five stages of grief that an individual goes through in the aftermath of some devastating event. It starts with denial, than proceeds with anger. Bargaining and depression soon follow. The cycle culminates in acceptance.\r\n\r\nAcceptance, however, is a very broad term.\r\n\r\nI dwell in a state of supreme acceptance. No event, no matter how unexpected or cruel, bothers me. As the saying goes, it slides off me like water off a duck's back. To most people, my state of superior acceptance is known as apathy.\r\n\r\nIn other words, I simply do not care. In less than a year I will end my childhood and become an adult. The word 'disfunctional' would be a euphemistic way of describing it. I am not close to my father, and was kicked out by my mother. But do I care? No. For the first time in my life, I am struggling to fit in socially at my new school. But am I bothered that I have eaten lunch every day this year by myself? No. And when asked, I lie and say that everything is fine. It's simpler this way; I don't feel like the challenge of facing the truth is even worth it.\r\n\r\nAin't it a funny thing?

Around the world and back again,We'll march until we reach the end.By trumping trumping trumpingTrumping trumping trumping 'round.Our feet we'll stamp into the ground,But purpose here can taint be found.Just trumping trumping trumpingTrumping trumping trumping 'round!

[b]Trumping[/b]\r\n\r\nAround the world and back again,\r\nWe'll march until we reach the end.\r\nBy trumping trumping trumping\r\nTrumping trumping trumping 'round.\r\nOur feet we'll stamp into the ground,\r\nBut purpose here can taint be found.\r\nJust trumping trumping trumping\r\nTrumping trumping trumping 'round!

It fell 215 feet, and was almost lost to sight as it hit the water. I could only just see the splash it made, could only just see the minute spray and water droplets thrown back into the air.

It was a very brave rock, far braver than I. A very brave rock.

[b]Reflections XII[/b]\r\n\r\nI threw a rock off my city's bridge today.\r\n\r\nIt fell 215 feet, and was almost lost to sight as it hit the water. I could only just see the splash it made, could only just see the minute spray and water droplets thrown back into the air.\r\n\r\nIt was a very brave rock, far braver than I. A very brave rock.

Just dead bones walking now. Just a bit of withered flesh suspended on an animated frame. Not too long now, and I'll join the others.

Don't know where anyone else is. Don't know where anything else is. Hell, I don't even know where I am... Which is funny, because I swear I used to know. It was me and Mark and Paulina and we had all decided to...

I don't know. But I didn't want to. But they wanted to and made me and yelled at me and hurt my feelings. Now they've gone and left me here in this cave and I've only got enough supplies to last a few days, and they're in poor enough condition.

The supplies' condition? Sh!t, what about my condition?

Poor me...

---

just me now. the darkness is starting to come in and my lamps are failing and i don't know what to do. ink in my pen is running out too so i'll keep it brief. i can hear something moving around out there, probably just some bats or some dumb animal.

yeah... bats...

but mark and... and... mark hasn't shown up and i'm still waiting and still hating him for dragging poor me to this hell hole.

shhhh! shhhhh! gotta be quiet, gotta stop writing because they can hear me scratching on the paper with my pen.

---

poor me poor me poor me why did he drag poor me here and leave me and join them and leave poor me here now im hurt and poor me and poor me and i can hear them coming and fluttering and whispering and talking and it hurts my head and the darkness is quiet and so quiet and it hurts to hear and shhhhhhhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhhhh i can hear them and they know im snitching and they dont like it but its too late now and the cave knows too and shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

---

gotz ta b queit so i kan heer them wizper to mee wat i want to heer bcuz i lik it and the darknis is nise and luvlee and preshis and the muzic wants me to leeve and go deeper and i think i wil so i will and poor me and poor me and deer god it hurts it hurts... It hurts... IT HURTS!

Wrote this for the short story contest. The theme was 'Ample Answer'.\r\n\r\n[b]Cave[/b]\r\n\r\nJust dead bones walking now. Just a bit of withered flesh suspended on an animated frame. Not too long now, and I'll join the others.\r\n\r\nDon't know where anyone else is. Don't know where anything else is. Hell, I don't even know where I am... Which is funny, because I swear I used to know. It was me and Mark and Paulina and we had all decided to...\r\n\r\nI don't know. But I didn't want to. But they wanted to and made me and yelled at me and hurt my feelings. Now they've gone and left me here in this cave and I've only got enough supplies to last a few days, and they're in poor enough condition.\r\n\r\nThe supplies' condition? Sh!t, what about my condition?\r\n\r\nPoor me...\r\n\r\n---\r\n\r\njust me now. the darkness is starting to come in and my lamps are failing and i don't know what to do. ink in my pen is running out too so i'll keep it brief. i can hear something moving around out there, probably just some bats or some dumb animal.\r\n\r\nyeah... bats...\r\n\r\nbut mark and... and... mark hasn't shown up and i'm still waiting and still hating him for dragging poor me to this hell hole.\r\n\r\nshhhh! shhhhh! gotta be quiet, gotta stop writing because they can hear me scratching on the paper with my pen.\r\n\r\n---\r\n\r\npoor me poor me poor me why did he drag poor me here and leave me and join them and leave poor me here now im hurt and poor me and poor me and i can hear them coming and fluttering and whispering and talking and it hurts my head and the darkness is quiet and so quiet and it hurts to hear and shhhhhhhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhhhh i can hear them and they know im snitching and they dont like it but its too late now and the cave knows too and shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh\r\n\r\n---\r\n\r\ngotz ta b queit so i kan heer them wizper to mee wat i want to heer bcuz i lik it and the darknis is nise and luvlee and preshis and the muzic wants me to leeve and go deeper and i think i wil so i will and poor me and poor me and deer god it hurts it hurts... It hurts... IT HURTS!

The short answer is any number of terrible things, all dependent upon the current state of the man.

A man is like a machine, and like any machine, only so much production can be coaxed out of it. Even if the utmost care is taken to ensure that the machine remains in peak condition, it will eventually break if too much stress is applied, or if too much is demanded from it. This doesn't mean that such a machine is a failure, or that its defective. Rather, the fault lies with the operator for failing to comprehend the physical limits of the machine in the first place.

This man I speak of is no different, and the question the same: What happens if you push him too far? What happens when you demand too much of him and eviscerate him when he inevitably fails? What happens when he, who is your responsibility I might add, is driven to such an extreme that he works no longer for profit or gain, but to simply escape the burden that is unjustly placed upon him? What happens when such a man, standing already near a sharp precipice, is driven closer and closer to the edge by an overbearing taskmaster so that he falls, or even jumps to escape the hell he is in?

What happens if you push me too far?

[b]Reflections XIII[/b]\r\n\r\nWhat happens if you push a man too far?\r\n\r\nThe short answer is any number of terrible things, all dependent upon the current state of the man. \r\n\r\nA man is like a machine, and like any machine, only so much production can be coaxed out of it. Even if the utmost care is taken to ensure that the machine remains in peak condition, it will eventually break if too much stress is applied, or if too much is demanded from it. This doesn't mean that such a machine is a failure, or that its defective. Rather, the fault lies with the operator for failing to comprehend the physical limits of the machine in the first place.\r\n\r\nThis man I speak of is no different, and the question the same: What happens if you push him too far? What happens when you demand too much of him and eviscerate him when he inevitably fails? What happens when he, who is your responsibility I might add, is driven to such an extreme that he works no longer for profit or gain, but to simply escape the burden that is unjustly placed upon him? What happens when such a man, standing already near a sharp precipice, is driven closer and closer to the edge by an overbearing taskmaster so that he falls, or even jumps to escape the hell he is in?\r\n\r\nWhat happens if you push me too far?

Flip a Coin...

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